


The Forgotten Lullaby

by zuriscribbles



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Himbo Energy, I don't know what I'm doing, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, There's A Story Under Here, dumbass energy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23305330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuriscribbles/pseuds/zuriscribbles
Summary: Launchpad thinks Drake hates him, whereas Drake is absolutely head over heels for Launchpad.While the two biggest nerds in the universe try to work out their feelings, a feisty little redhead comes into their lives and brings them a new meaning to Darkwing Duck.
Relationships: Drake Mallard & Gosalyn Mallard, Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 41
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> There's a story under all this fluff I swear.

“Too much glitter... Too much neon… Too much fiber…”

Launchpad tossed the banana costume onto a pile of rejected outfits on a single chair that looked like it was about to collapse. He stood in front of a mirror in his Darkwing duck boxers and tank top as he contemplated matching his tye-dye shirt with cargo shorts. Dewey and Webby sat on his unmade bed as they flipped through men's fashion magazines that littered across the bed and floor.

“Since when did you care about your clothes?" Dewey asked as he flipped through a few pages of _Feathery Fashion._

“Since I started hanging out with Drake more. He always wears fancy clothes, and I thought I should start dressing like my age,” Launchpad explained as he turned to the kids with a white shirt that read _I AM ADULT_ in blue.

“I think you dress just fine,” said Webby. “I don’t think you should try so hard. Just put on something you would normally wear.” Webby searched through a pile of clothes by the bed and held up an outfit for the larger man. “Ooh! A crème de pêche shirt would go great with these sugar almond khakis! Or how about chili pepper vest with rocky road slacks.”

“I don’t know,” he said as he scratched his head. “I want to wear food as much as the next guy, but I want to look more mature for Drake. I've been noticing that he gets super red when I talk to him, and he always looks away when we make eye contact.” Launchpad fell back on his bed beside Dewey and sulked for a moment. He blurted, “I think I’m making him uncomfortable, but I don’t blame him though. He’s probably embarrassed about last time.”

Webby asked, “What happened last time?”

“Launchpad showed up to a cocktail party dressed in that beautiful red dress over there,” Dewey explained as he pointed to the bright red shrimp costume on the floor. 

“Did he wear the red crocs too?”

Dewey nodded.

“Everyone else dressed in suits,” Launchpad explained as he sat up, “and I didn’t want the shrimp to feel left out.”

Dewey gave Launchpad a few head pats to calm the larger man. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Launchpad. I’m sure the shrimp appreciated the effort.”

Webby cleared her throat and stated matte-or-factly, “As Granny once said, ‘Your eyes show your soul, but your style shows your heart.’”

“But my heart is all red and _thump-thump_ ,” Launchpad described as he held out his hand and made pulsed motions with his fingers.

Dewey asked. “Where are you guys going anyway?”

“AristoCats.”

“AristoCats!” The two ducklings exclaimed.

“Yup. It’s ‘So good; you’ll wanna be a cat.’” 

“You’re telling us that you’re going to the fanciest, most expensive restaurant in Duckburg?”

Launchpad nodded and explained, “It’s our one-year friendaversary. That’s why I can't mess this up. If I blow it this time, Drake’s never gonna want to see me again.”

Webby pulled out a walkie talkie from her pocket. “This is bigger than we can handle. I’ll have to call for reinforcements.” She held the walkie to her mouth and stated, “Come in, Granny. This is Webby Vanderquack. Code zero-zero-two-four. We have a fashion situation on our hands.”

* * *

"Listen Launchpad; I've been thinking… Well… We've been friends for a year now and… ummm… I think… that… w-we should… ummm… Dang it! This is so embarrassing! Maybe I'm taking things too fast. What do you guys think?"

Drake waited in a nervous sweat for the trio of roses in a slim crystal vase to respond to him. A single petal dropped onto the table.

Drake dropped his head into his palm in defeat. "Ugh! You guys are no help."

"More water, sir?"

Drake would lie to himself if he said he wasn't startled by the other man's presence. The waiter was a slender Persian cat with long, snow-white fur and large blue eyes. He wore a crisp white shirt with black slacks and a black apron around his hips, and a rosy pink bow around his collar. He held a crystal picture filled with water.

"If I may interject, I could not help but notice you were practicing on our roses," he said in a soft, flowery tone that could put anyone at ease.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb anyone," Drake said as he rubbed his hand on his neck. "I-I'm just really nervous. Tonight's a big night, and I want everything to be perfect."

"No need to apologize. It happens a lot more zhan you think."

"Really?"

The waiter nodded. "If you want to calm your nerves, I suggest you act as if zhere is nozhing out of the ordinary. Remain calm and collected, and enjoy your time together." He added, "You will find zhe right moment to pop zhe question."

Drake was taken aback by the waiter's knowledge. It must have been the years of having to deal with awkward men like Drake that he learned a thing or two. "I didn't know it was so… tedious," he commented.

The waiter added, "We have a special bottle of special champagne for people in your situation if you are interested."

 _They don't call it liquid courage for nothing_ , Drake thought. "I would like that very much. Thank you."

The waiter bowed his head. "You are very welcome. Let me know if you need anyzhing," The waiter filled a few more empty glasses with ice water and returned to the kitchen.

Drake looked at his watch. 

06:02 PM 

He hoped that Launchpad hadn't run into traffic. Or worse, that he _caused_ the traffic. He fiddled with the end of his fork when a door slammed open and startled him.

"Sorry I'm late!" Launchpad exclaimed as he rushed to the seat across from Drake. "Mrs. Beakley spent like an hour fixing my hair," he explained. "She had to use a whole can of hairspray to get it to stay in place, and she kept finding peppermints in my hair. Then she gave me a lecture about how 'unsanitary' it was to put candy under my hat. Anyway, I have some with me if you want one."

Drake didn't reply. He gawked at the statuesque man in front of him. Launchpad's hair, which always hid under a hat, was slicked back and had a shine that would shame the sun. He wore a charcoal grey suit that fit him very, _very_ well with a crisp, white dress shirt and a red tie around his collar. If Drake's jaw dropped any lower, it would've hit the table.

"Drake?"

The mallard shook his head to come back from cloud nine. "Huh? S-Sorry!" He stuttered. "I-I was just looking at your t-tie. It looks really, really, _really_ good." 

"Thank you," Launchpad beamed. "Mr. McDee never wears it. I think it's from like the crusade or something. You look good too."

Drake felt underwhelmed by the comment. If he had known Launchpad would've gone all out for their dinner, he would've worn one of his nicer suits. Instead, he wore a black turtleneck and a limited edition-

_G A S P_

A myriad of eyes peered toward the two ducks seated by the fireplace. Stares of both confusion and irritation locked on them.

"Is that the Limited Edition Original Darkwing Duck Design Watch from 2006 with purple leather straps and stainless steel plating?" Launchpad gushed.

Drake waited to answer once leering eyes returned to their food. "Y-Yeah," he stuttered.

"Can I see?!"

After a moment into staring into Launchpad's wide, starry eyes, Drake agreed. He extended his arm to him and was practically pulled off from his seat. Large hands clasped his hand as they felt on the stainless steel and smooth leather. 

"I've only seen pictures, but it's even more beautiful in person," he sniffled.

"It's one of my most prized possessions. I won it on an online auction. I had to mow through a lot of lawns in that boiling hot summer to afford it, but it was worth the blisters."

"That's sooo hardcore! All I had to do was wash my mom's car and drive my sisters to school. I only hit a couple mailboxes and stop signs, but they always made it on time. Hey, I read Darkwing issue #215, and it's sooooooo good!"

Drake wondered what had made him so nervous earlier. Being with Launchpad was like breathing in fresh air. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he realized his feelings for the larger man, but it wasn't "love at first sight". He noticed it whenever Launchpad visited him during his Muay Thai class, or when he called him in the middle of the night to talk about a Darkwing episode he rewatched for the thousandth time. 

Drake could listen to him talk for hours on end, but then he realized his hand was still holding onto Launchpads. Drake yanked his hand away and dug his face into the menu. "W-W-Why don't we order our food now?! I-I heard the b-brussel sprouts were to die for."

"Oh… Alright." Launchpad reached for his menu and scanned through it. The redhead feared that he had embarrassed his best friend again.

Drake's heart felt as if it were going to fly out of his chest. He remembered the waiter's advice and took even breaths to calm himself. The same waiter came back and received their order. Launchpad asked for the prime rib with extra garlic butter, whereas Drake ordered the seafood basquaise and roasted brussel sprouts for the table. The moment the waiter left a silence fell between the two.

"Drake-"

"Launchpad-"

A heavy silence settled over the two again. Their eyes glanced around unceremoniously as they tried not to make contact. Drake noticed the other patrons chatting and laughing among themselves, whereas Launchpad's attention went to the orange Tabby playing the piano with poise. A few minutes passed before the waiter came back with their plate of brussel sprouts.

"You know, I never really liked vegetables," Drake blurted as he plunged his fork into the round sprout. "I thought it wasn't natural for food to be so _green_."

"I think you may have _sprouted_ some new taste buds."

Drake paused for a moment before a smile crept onto his lips, and a laugh burst out of him. He hugged his stomach as his laughter filled the air around them. Launchpad was used to eye rolls and irritated grunts, so seeing Drake react so lively to his joke was new. The waiter came back to their table with their meals. 

Smiles glued onto their lips as they ate and chatted about their favorite show. Launchpad brought up a conspiracy going around the fan club message board about the show being a villain origin story for Darkwing. Both men thought the idea was stupid and dumb.

Launchpad finished his meal in record time, whereas Drake was too absorbed in the conversation that he lost his appetite. He gave the rest of the food to Launchpad, who was more than happy to accept it. Their waiter took their emptied plates and returned with new menus.

"Would you gentlemen care for any desserts?"

"No, thank you, but if we could get some _champagne_ ," Drake winked a bit too enthusiastically, "that would be lovely."

"Of course," the waiter agreed before he left.

"There's a great ice cream shop around the corner I think you'll love."

"Oh! Do they have Rocky Road?"

"I'm 99.9% sure they have Rocky Road."

Launchpad rejoiced. The waiter handed them their champagne and left the bottle at the table. They raised their glasses of golden, bubbly liquor.

"Cheers to our one-year anni- I mean, friendiversary," Drake declared.

"Cheers to more Darkwing!"

_Clink!_

With some liquid courage in his system, Drake was confident that it was the perfect moment to ask what had kept him up for months. He straightened himself up, cleared his throat and-

"Hey, Drake? Did your champagne come with a free ring too?"

It took Drake a moment to notice the blinding, comedically massive diamond ring Launchpad held between his fingers. It didn't take long for the master of deduction to put two-and-two together. He felt lightheaded, and the room spun around him. 

Launchpad remained unfazed about the ordeal. "I've never had champagne with a ring in it before," he commented. "Must be a rich people thing, huh Drake?"

_Thump!_

"Drake!"

* * *

"That was so embarrassing," Drake said as he held an ice pack on the side of his head. "I can never show my face there again."

"Don't say that. I'm sure a lot of guys pass out at high-end dining establishments. And they were nice enough to cover our tab."

As much as Drake wanted to go home and lock himself away for the remainder of his life, he promised his friend a well deserved creamy confection. Launchpad licked the mountain of Rocky Road with more enthusiasm than Drake with his single scoop of strawberry ice cream. 

The thought of the accidental proposal plagued his mind, but even more, the fact he didn't own up to his feelings. Maybe he should just get it over with.

"Oh no!" Launchpad gasped. "I left my wallet in the bathroom at the ice cream shop. I'll be right back!"

It was impressive how fast he sprinted without spilling a single drop of his ice cream. Drake headed toward the vacant parking lot down the block. He walked back to his car and found that his black convertible was lower… much lower than he remembered. He dropped his ice cream and the ice pack.

"Wha-What the?! What happened to my tires?!" He exclaimed as he nearly tore out his feathers from his head. As he examined the damage, he heard movement on the other side of his car. He peeked under the car and saw a pair of small, purple sneakers fidgeting by the trunk. "I know you're back there, come on out."

After a moment of silence, the perpetrator crept out. She was about half his size. Her fiery red hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore a baggy black hoodie. A long metal tube stuck out behind her back. "Oh jeez, mister, what happened to your tires?" She said in an exaggerated, childlike tone.

"You can drop the act. I see the tire iron behind you."

"Oh, this old thing," she explained, "I…. uh, found it on the floor, but don't worry, I'm sure you'll catch whoever did this to your car."

"What's your name?"

"That's private information. If you wanna know, it's gonna cost you an arm," the kid said as she glanced down to Drake's defenseless knees. She tightened her grip on the bar and raised it above her head. "And a leg!"

_Thwack!_

"GAH!" Drake screamed as he hugged his knee to his chest. The girl sprinted past him. He hopped on one leg as he tried to chase her. "Why! You!"

"HAHA! Try and catch me you boob!"

As she looked back to give the injured Drake a cheeky gin, she ran into what felt like a boulder. She fell back and stared at the enormous man in front of her. 

"Whoops, sorry about that. You should look where you're goin'."

The girl shot up and hit the man with the bar, but was surprised to see he was unaffected. She tried to hit him again, but Launchpad yanked the bar from her tiny hands. She tried to run away but got caught by the back of her jacket. Launchpad held her up like a cub carried in its mother's jaws.

"Let me go!" The girl demanded as she kicked the air.

"Don't listen to her, LP," Drake stammered as he limped toward them. "She stole my tires."

"You got no proof!"

Drake raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be home anyway? It's not safe for kids to be out this late."

"You can't tell me what to do. You're not my dad."

Drake rubbed the bridge between his eyes and sighed. "Listen, kid; I'm not the type of duck that wants to send kids to jail. Just tell me where my tires are, and I'll let you off the hook."

"Bite me!"

Just as Drake was ready to give the girl the pep talk of her life, a tumultuous roar of footsteps echoed in the parking lot.

"YOU!" A rough, broken voice called out. 

They turned their heads and met a trio of teenagers with malicious intent and acne in their faces. "We've been lookin' all over for you," a teen with a fake heart tattoo on his arm sneered. "You're the brat that stole our quarters at the arcade!"

"I didn't steal your money. Besides, who would want your chumpy-chump change anyway?"

"That's what we wanna know," a teen with a bowl cut cried out.

Suddenly, a cloud of purple smoke filled the area. Dim street lights cut through the dark smoke as a caped figure with a large hat suddenly appeared.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night. I am the hall monitor that hands you the hall pass of justice. I. Am. Darkwing Duck!"

"YEAH! WOO-HOO! Darkwing, I'm your number one fan!" Launchpad cheered.

The teens stared at the caped crusader for a second before bursting into laughter.

"Darkwing? More like Dark- _dweeb_!" A bigger teen called out.

Drake's heard worse. "Listen, fellas, it's very late, and I want to go home as much as the next guy. If we can come to some sort of negotiation, I won't have to call anyone's parents."

"Fat chance! She's been pickpocketing everyone's change for the past two weeks."

"Yeah! She needs to be taught a lesson!"

The teens charged them with full force. The teen with the fake tattoo swung at the caped crusader, only for Darkwing to grab his arm and fling him onto the cement. The teen with the bowl cut jumped in the air and tried to kick him. Darkwing dodged the attack with ease. The teen sprained his ankle and rolled around in pain.

"Woah, he's got moves," the girl commented. She looked up to see Launchpad beaming with happiness at the sight of his friend blocking punches and looking absolutely awesome.

Droplets of sweat formed on the teen's forehead as he panted, "Stay... still.. hah... old man!"

"Old man?! I'm only 28-!" It was then that the weighty teen charged at him and knocked him face-first onto the cement.

"Darkwing!" Launchpad called out. He ran toward the car, flung the door open, and put the girl inside the backseat. Launchpad tackled the hefty teen off Darkwing's body and rolled the teen onto his stomach. He pinned him to the ground with his arms behind his back. The teen struggled under him, to no avail. "You okay, DW?" Launchpad asked.

Darkwing knew he went through worse, but he had a hard time remembering when. Even so, he held his arm up high with his thumb up.

The exhausted teen spotted the tire iron Launchpad discarded earlier. He grabbed it and held the iron over his head.

"DW! Look out!"

Just before the teen could land a blow, a small shoulder slammed against him and brought him down. The redhead pulled out a bag full of quarters and beat him with it until he cried out for his mother. Darkwing pulled the girl from the teen. Her look of fury changed to regret. She dipped her head and stared at her shoes. 

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

* * *

As police escorted outraged parents to their weeping children, Darkwing and Launchpad reported to an officer with a bushy mustache. The girl that acted so innocent before sulked in the back of the police car. 

"Tagged on private property, stole someone's pet catfish, threw confetti at a funeral, ran away to join a wolf pack, and challenged an elderly woman to a fencing duel to the death, my goodness."

"Teen's sure do get in a lot of trouble nowadays."

"I'm not talking about them; I'm talking about the girl."

Stealing tires was one thing, but to challenge a senior citizen to the death was abstruse, if not discombobulated. "Are you going to take her to jail?" Darkwing asked, unsettled by the idea of seeing the kid behind iron bars.

"No. I'll let her off with a warning and take her home. Some cop I'd be sending a kid to jail, right?"

The officer took down a few more notes before he headed to the police car. The girl's hardened face remained unfazed as they drove her away. 

Darkwing never got a chance to find his tires that night. He was so exhausted; he figured he'd call someone to tow his car in the morning. He looked down at his watch. "Oh no. If I don't leave soon, I'll miss the last train home."

"I can drive you home if you want."

"I don't know, LP. I live pretty far."

"Don't sweat it, DW," reassured. "I have the day off tomorrow. Oh! We can watch some Darkwing if you want. I have my blu-rays in the car."

Darkwing couldn't have asked for a better companion. With all that's happened, he was glad he could end it with Launchpad. A cold shiver crawled up his spine and rattled his teeth. He hugged himself as cold winds wrapped around him.

Launchpad removed his jacket and placed it over Darkwing's shoulders. Darkwing melted into the snug coat. As they walked toward Launchpad's car, Darkwing caught scents of warm cinnamon and citrus, like hot cider, on his jacket.

Even though the warmth and comfort of Launchpad's jacket, Darkwing felt uneasy. Whether it was from the incident at dinner, or seeing a little girl in a police car, he couldn't figure it out. All he knew was that he wanted to wear Launchpad's jacket longer.

* * *

News from the night before made headlines in the St. Canard Chronicle as citizens went about their day. A stray newspaper danced in the air as it landed on the porch of an abandoned house. 

The Westside of St. Canard was nothing but abandoned homes and stray animals, or so most thought.

Light trickled in from broken windows boarded by rotten planks of wood. Cigar smoke filled the home and floated to a myriad of broken light bulbs. Rats scurried across piles of ash as they searched for any leftover scraps. Torn newspapers and Darkwing posters littered the floor as the figure made his way toward a shredded sofa in the middle of a living room. 

**Darkwing Duck Saves Orphan From Troublesome Teens**

"That bastardized bootleg buffoon!" 

A cloud of smoke blew out from his lips as he scowled at the picture of the caped crusader. Next to the column was a picture of the unhappy redhead. He tore it from the paper and studied it. The figure mashed the embers of his cigar onto Darkwing's printed face and watched as bright red consumed the crumpled paper.

"Well, if the fans want to see a 'family-friendly' Darkwing, then I'd be happy to deliver."


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always make myself so hungry every time I write about food >.<

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Gosalyn held her tongue as she stared out the window. She sat on the less cushioned, more shredded and taped, chair that she was used to sitting in. She watched as the other kids played in the front yard. Big smiles and distant laughter flowed through the room as if there wasn't a single care in the world. She heard heavy footsteps against the creaky, wooden floor rush pass the door. Her eyes moved to the dark spot on the ceiling as water droplets fell from the place and onto a large cooking pot.

Across from her was a brown hen with large, round glasses and her hair tied up in a messy bun. She had a steaming cup with a day old bag of chamomile in her hand that read _Boss Lady_ in gold. Files and paperwork towered above her head, and a plastic toy of a tyrannosaurus rex crowded her desk. Her name, Dr. Helen Rhode, was engraved on a plaque by a dusty lamp. Gosalyn noticed the dark rings under her eyes and the lines that formed on her forehead.

"Gosalyn," the administrator sighed, as if to relieve herself of the weight of the world, "this is the third time this year you've been brought in by the police. If you don't start acting up soon, you're going to end up in juvenile detention. Is that what you want? You want to be sent to a place full of delinquents and give up on your future?"

"Doesn't sound any different than here," the kid rebutted. 

The administrator rubbed her temples and sighed, "I know there's more to you than this, Gosalyn."

"No, there isn't. I've been a bad egg from the start, and you know it. No one wants me anyway, so I might as well get a head start in life before this place runs to the ground." 

"You read through the files again, didn't you?" 

The silence was all she needed to know. 

She took a sip of her tea and continued, "It's true. The government cut our funding, and our investors pulled out. We might not even make it to the end of the year."

"Life's unfair like that," Gosalyn commented nonchalantly. "At least with this dump closing, you get to retire earlier and forget about us dumpster babies."

"Gosalyn!"

"What?! Well, maybe if you'd let me find where my mom is, I wouldn't be a problem for you anymore."

The two sat in tense silence. Helen was more than aware of the countless attempts Gosalyn made to reach her birth mother. Those attempts led her all over the map, as far up as the border to Canada. All in vain.

"If you're not going to think about yourself, then think of the other kids. They look up to you, Gosalyn. It would break their hearts to know that you're behaving this."

Gosalyn continued to stare out the window. 

"I have no choice but to take away your outside privileges for the rest of the week."

"Whatever."

"And you are banned from the T.V room until further notice."

"What?! That's not fair!"

"You've said it yourself, Gosalyn. Life is unfair. All we can do now is hope that things turn out better for both of us. You're free to go."

And with that, Gosalyn stomped toward the door and slammed it shut. The mountain of files and paper fell onto the floor. Helen leaned back and closed her eyes as she breathed out a heavy breath.

Gosalyn ran to her room at the end of the hall. She pressed her back against the door and slid down to the floor as warm tears slid down her cheeks. She pulled her knees to her chest and laid her head in her arms. She didn't know if she cried because she's been up for almost two days, or if it was because she couldn't watch cartoons with the other kids, or if it had to do with her thinking she was the reason the orphanage was shutting down. She hummed a tune to herself as she wept to calm her nerves.

It was a song that had been with her before her days at the orphanage. Gosalyn held onto faint memories of her mom, holding her and singing to her before bed. She remembered her mom's bright red hair, her big, green eyes, and the turquoise coat she wore the day she dropped her off at the orphanage. She wants to find her before she forgets her. Before her mom forgets her. 

She cried until she fell asleep.

* * *

Drake woke up to a splitting headache and harsh dryness in his throat. His body felt as if it were hit from behind by a bus. Again. He reached for the glass of water by his nightstand and chugged it down to the last drop. He was in his Darkwing attire and found his cape and hat tossed onto the floor. He changed out of his outfit into a faded Powerline shirt but never bothered to remove his mask. He crawled back into bed and groaned against his pillow.

_Slam!_

"Good morning, sleepy-head!" Launchpad beamed with his usual exuberance and a smile that could outshine the sun. He headed towards the curtains and drew them back. The faint light turned into a blinding glow that would make the most fearsome vampire cower into its coffin.

_Hiiiiiiissssssssss!_

Drake covered his face under the sheets and curled into himself.

Launchpad put a hand on Drake's shoulder and shook him a bit. "C'mon, it's time to get up."

"Nooooooooooo," Drake groaned.

"Alright, but I guess I'm gonna have to eat the breakfast I made you allllllll by myself."

Drake peeked from under his lavender colored covers. He squinted his eyes in from both disbelief and the intense brightness from the sun. "You made me breakfast?"

"Mhh-hmm. And it'll get cold if you don't get up soon."

It took Drake a moment before he rolled off the bed onto his feet. The ice-cold floor sent a shiver down his spine but gave him the extra jolt to carry on. Drake felt the room spin as if he had just got off at the amusement park. He felt as if he was going to vomit, but a reassuring arm stretched over his shoulders and escorted him to the kitchen. Before he knew it, he was seated in front of his kitchen table.

Before he was an omelet made of egg whites stuffed to the brim with zucchini, spinach, tomatoes, and provolone cheese oozed out from the crevices. A tall glass of orange juice stood next to a bowl of chopped strawberries and yogurt. It was a sight that nearly brought a tear down his cheek if his eyes didn't feel so dry.

Drake didn't understand why he failed to notice Launchpad wearing his baby blue apron tied tightly around his waist. Or how he didn't notice Launchpad's sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and how his smile made him look like the house husband of his dreams. 

"What's wrong? Do I have something in my face?"

_Deja vu._

"Nonono, you're f-fine," he stuttered in a nervous sweat. He quickly scooped a piece of his breakfast with his fork and shoved it in his beak. He nearly choked on it but was saved by a hefty pat on the back. 

"Easy there, tiger. Your food isn't going anywhere."

His companion was right. It wasn't every day that the man of your dreams can come to your apartment and cook up your favorite meal, carefully crafted with thoughtfulness and affection and.... lots of butter. Drake made sure to savor every bite.

"By the way, your mom face-called and asked how you were doin'. You were still asleep, so I talked to her for a little bit. I can see where you get your looks from," Launchpad chuckled. "She's really nice. She even helped me make the omelet just how you like it."

"Did you tell her what happened at the restaurant?"

Launchpad nodded.

Drake had an ominous feeling in his stomach that one of his sisters would call him about the details of the incident. Knowing them, he figured he'd find a vlog about it later in the day.

"I didn't tell her about the little girl, or the fight at the garage." 

The girl.

Drake couldn't get the image of her sitting alone in the back of the police car last night. She looked so miserable, so revolted by him. He hoped that if their paths crossed again, it would be for the better.

"Do they know you're Darkwing Duck?"

Drake took another bite of his food. Only a handful of people knew his true identity, and even that was too many for his standards. He knew the risks of having someone's identity revealed, and it was a burden he knew he couldn't share alone even if he wanted to. A thought would pop in his head now and then about Launchpad and his own safety. 

Darkwing was a duck that worked alone for a reason. Drake was lucky enough to take out a petty criminal or two over a week, but he longed for the day to meet a rival that was his equal. An abominable, abhorrent, atrocious villain that would rival the previous Darkwing's rogues gallery. Someone that could challenge him and make him feel what it meant to own the mantle of Darkwing. That was until he met Launchpad. 

"No," he replied. 

Suddenly, a sharp pain throbbed against his skill. His head felt as if it split in two. He held his head in his hands and asked, "What happened last night?"

Drake remembered every detail of the events that preceded their encounter at the parking garage. He still had the bump from when the back of his head smashed against the restaurant floor.

Launchpad explained that when they headed back to Drake's apartment, they spent most of the night watching Darkwing Duck episodes and gorging on pizza pockets. 

It was Drake's idea to introduce alcohol onto the scene. He taught Launchpad a game where they would take a shot every time Darkwing said his signature catchphrase. Drake was about four or five drinks in when he forgot where his room was. "You got so hyped over the theme song that you got up on the coffee table and started singing. I took a video if you want to see it."

"Let me see!" 

Launchpad swiped through blurred pictures and snippets of videos of Drake singing and playing with his action figures. He could hear Launchpad singing along with him from behind the camera. Drake's face flushed red when he noticed how physical he was towards his friend. In every picture, he either had his arms wrapped around his waist or had his hands mingled with Launchpads. All those pictures in his possession and he couldn't remember anything!

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that," the smaller duck apologized with his head buried in his hands. "I don't usually get like that. I don't know what got into me last night." 

"Don't sweat it, Drake. We were havin' so much fun, and you looked so happy. I wish I could say the same for your coffee table."

Drake looked over the kitchen counter and found the legs of his coffee table completely smashed.

"I'll fix it as soon as you're done eatin'."

"It's alright, LP. I've been meaning to buy a new coffee table anyway. Besides, aren't you going to eat?" Drake asked.

"Nah, I'm gonna grab some pancakes with my lil' buddy later," Launchpad said. A second later, he shot up from his seat in a panic. "Oh, no! Dewey! I totally forgot I promised to take him to Pancakes Galore today! He's probably waiting for me."

"They don't close until 2. If you hurry, you might be able to make it."

"A-Are you sure?"

Drake was sure he wanted Launchpad to snuggle with him as they watched VHS tapes of Darkwing and to spend the day being couch potatoes. He wanted nothing more than to be with Launchpad, but he knew the kids meant the world to him. "I'll be fine," he scoffed. "I'm Darkwing Duck, remember? I can take care of a measly little hangover-!" 

"Remember to take an aspirin for your headache and drink lots of water," he instructed as he rushed towards the door, "I'll text you later!" He closed the door behind him and hurried down the hall. His footsteps echoed as he ran back to the apartment. He popped his head through the crack of the door and said, "By the way, I used all of your tin foil, so the aliens don't steal my belly button, byeeeeeeee!"

Drake had never been so enamored with anyone than he was at that moment.

He figured he'd shower after he finished his meal. He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his messages as he took a drink of his orange juice. He received a text from his mom.

_Who was that handsome man??? Is he your boyfriend??_

Drake texted: _He's just a friend!!_

_You should invite him over for dinner. He seems nice. :)_

Drake considered it for a moment, but then remembered he would instead save Launchpad the trouble of meeting his overbearing sisters. He received another notification from his phone. It was from his younger sister. When he opened the link, he nearly spat out his orange juice.

**My Brother Proposed At A 5 Star Restaurant?!?!?! And Fainted?!?! Warning: Extreme Cringe (Not Clickbait)**

* * *

Although the triplets would typically spend their morning planning their adventure for the day, they found themselves unusually separated. Huey practiced in their vast backyard with his mother on how to make the perfect s' more for his _S' more Is S'less_ badge. Donald dragged Louie to get his cavities filled at the dentist across town. Their Uncle Scrooge was imprisoned in another dreadful board meeting, and Ms. Beakley was busy repairing the floor of Louie's claw marks.

Dewey sat in silence with a jar of homemade pickles wrapped around his arms as he kicked his legs against Webby's bed frame. Webby and Lena sat in the middle of a pentagram drawn in pink chalk with dimly lit candles lit around the circle. They muttered an ancient incantation for the past twenty minutes with no results. His exaggerated moans and cries caught the girl's attention.

"What's the matter, little dude?" Lena asked.

Webby chimed in, "Are you still upset that Launchpad forgot about your plans?"

"Yeah," Dewey sulked. "We planned on going to Pancakes Galore to get their All-You-Can-Eat short stacks, but he totally bailed on me. I made sure to remind him every day, and he still forgot. I even wrote it down on his calendar!"

"It's okay, Dewey. I'm sure Launchpad just got caught up in something. Oh! Maybe he got abducted by aliens! Or he went on a quest to slay a dragon!"

Both options seemed extremely plausible.

"Big Guy went out last night, right? Maybe he had one too many brewskies and woke up on a rooftop with no pants."

"Launchpad would never go on a rooftop with no pants. He would wear them on his head like a true gentleman," Dewey corrected. He dragged his hands down his face in annoyance. "Ughhhhhh!" He groaned. "Ever since he started hanging out with _that guy_ Launchpad's forgotten all about me. I'm supposed to be his best friend! What's he got that I don't?"

Lena listed some possible traits on her fingers and answered, "He's probably got a nice car, a real ID, a snazzy watch, and I'm sure he has a great credit score."

Dewey raised a brow. He asked, "What are you trying to say?"

"Launchpad hangs out with us almost 24/7. I can see why he'd want to hang out with someone his own age when you're not even old enough to watch Invasion Of The Belly Snatchers by yourself."

"Hey! Operation Trench Coat would've been a success if Launchpad didn't chicken out last minute."

"Poor guy," Webby remarked, "he still sleeps with tin foil around his stomach."

"That's beside the point! Webby's your best friend, and you guys always find time to hang out with each other."

Tears formed in the corner of Webby's eyes. She asked, "I'm... I'm your best friend?"

"I tell you you're my best friend every day."

"I know - _sniff_ \- I just love hearing you say it," she confessed. Webby wrapped her arms around Lena and squeezed her tight. 

The teen gave up on breathing anytime soon.

"But Lena has a point. It sucks that Launchpad forgot about today, and I'm sure he feels terrible about it. You know he's not the type of guy that would abandon you like that."

"I guess," Dewey mumbled.

"Great! Now get your butt over here and do kid stuff with us. We're gonna summon King Solomon."

"Oh! Maybe after he tells us where his ring is, he can open Granny's pickle jar!"

Dewey reluctantly stepped into the summoning circle and placed the jar in the middle. He remained silent as the girls mumbled ancient incantations. He couldn't shake off the feeling that the only person he trusted as much as his brothers could forget about him.

The former king of the United Monarchy never did tell them where the ring was, but he was kind enough to open their pickle jar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! I hope I don't make this a very long story, but I always end up double crossing myself hehe. I guess I should take a nap soon.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very good at writing action scenes, but it is what it is.

“Hey G-Gosalyn, I b-brought you some b-bread.”

Gosalyn glanced down at the golden bun in the boy’s tiny hand. “Thanks, Honker, but I’m not that hungry,” she said as she continued to stuff her backpack with socks and rolls of change.

Herbert, or who Gosalyn calls "Honker", is about half a head smaller than her, which made him an easy target among the older kids. His bright red glasses would put the lenses of The Gran Telescopio Canarias to shame. The blue tape wrapped between his lenses matched the sweater he sported over his yellow button-up, and his DIY bowl cut didn’t have a single hair out of place.

When he wasn’t re-reading worn-out copies of _The Fellowship Of The Onion Rings_ or _A Series Of Unlucky Events_ , he was a master of hiding from predatory eyes. He preferred to hide behind a stack of wooden boards that led to the basement of the orphanage. In the middle of the room was a camping lantern that Gosalyn “borrowed” from the store. The glow in the dark stars and 80’s horror movie posters replaced spiderwebs and chipped paint.

“I d-didn’t see you at d-d-dinner. Are you o-okay?”

“Just peachy, Honkmeister.”

There was a strained silence between the two as Gosalyn finished organizing her backpack. Beside her was a stained bus pass and a one-way ticket for the Duckburg Area Rapid Transit. Honker sat on a pile of old blankets and picked at the bun. He nibbled on a few bits before he blurted, “I-I-I heard you talking to Mrs. H-Helen the other day.”

Gosalyn zipped up her backpack. She sighed and rubbed the space between her eyes. “Eavesdropping isn’t a very appealing trait for getting adopted,” she said.

The small boy dipped his head down and stared at his mangled bun. He continued, “Y-You said some pretty m-mean things to her. I-I think you should apologize.”

“Yeah, well, me and Helen don’t really see eye-to-eye.”

“She c-cares about you, G-Gosalyn. She gets really s-sad when the police d-drop you off.”

“That sounds like her problem. Besides, if she really cared about me, then she’d let me leave, so I don’t end up rotting in this hellhole like the others.” The color dropped from her face, the moment that slipped out of her tongue. “Sorry, Honker,” she apologized.

“It’s alright. I know y-you don’t mean it.”

“It’s just… You wouldn’t understand, Honk. You’re just a kid.”

“S-So are you.”

There was no question that Herbert’s mind went well beyond his age. Although she felt she was more mature than the other kids, it would be four more grueling years until she wouldn’t be considered a ‘kid’ anymore. Four years she didn’t want to spend at the orphanage.

“A-Are you c-coming back?” He asked.

She wanted to tell him about an old address she found in her files, and she tried to say to him that if it led to her mother that they would never see each other again. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She swung her backpack over her shoulder and slid the wooden plank away from the entrance. “You ask too many questions, Honk,” she said before she pushed the plank back in place.

She ran across the overgrown grass and climbed the fence onto the streets of Duckburg. It was a miracle she managed to catch her bus across the street without being hit by a car.

At the station, she was greeted by her favorite custodian, Richard Swanson, as he mopped the tiled floor. He was a graying, soft-spoken black-necked swan that pronounced his S's with a whistle. He never thought to question why a little girl would travel by herself in the middle of the night as frequently as Gosalyn does, which she appreciated. He gushed about his grandson's trumpet recital and how proud he was that their family tradition could carry on.

Gosalyn found solace in her nightly travels. Beside her was a man in his black suit with a brown bag he always had in hand. The occasional squeak of rats cut through the silence as trains sped through the station. She pulled out a  _ Mighty Ducks  _ comic that she “borrowed” from the library the week before.

“St. Canard bound train now approaching Platform One.”

* * *

Gosalyn had been to St Canard once before on a rare field trip to the St. Canard Museum of Natural Science a few years ago. She remembered towering skyscrapers lined with polished windows and dense crowds in suits with phones glued to their ears. Those same towers loomed over her as she made her way downtown on her skateboard. The full moon shone high and streaked against the windows. She passed by a group of people huddled in front of a makeshift fire pit by their tents, and the rancid smell of sewage filled her nose. 

She skated toward an area lit up by red lanterns and bright neon signs. Gosalyn passed a small dim sum shop that gave her a vague sense of familiarity. As she turned the corner, she found a park with a giant red ship with a slide on the bow. She remembered falling off the side of the slide and her mom rushing to her side to comfort her. She felt a smile on her lips at the thought she would find her mom at any moment. With her eyes glued to the ship, she bumped into what felt like a brick wall and fell back onto the concrete.

"Hey! Watch where you're goin'!"

Gosalyn looked up and found a group of adults loitering by the park gate. Two were identical cranes in baggy jeans with green bandanas tied around their head. Another member was a brown bear that sported the same bandana and had a white dragon tattooed on his arm. It was pure luck that she ran into the biggest guy in the group. An enormous, ash red bull with a septum piercing.

"You're got some nerve, kid," a feline in a tight red dress sneered as she held a cigarette in her hand and another around the bull's arm.

"I wouldn't have bumped into you if you guys weren't blocking the way!" She talked back. She didn't know why she couldn't just keep quiet. Her knees shook, and her hands started to sweat. She tried to make a break for it between their legs but got caught by her hood.

"Woah there, pipsqueak. What's the rush?" The bear asked in a cocky tone.

"Let me go! My mom's waiting for me!"

"I'm afraid she's gonna havta wait, short stack. This is our street. You havta pay if you wanna pass."

"I-I don't have any money."

"That's too bad. If you give us your backpack, and we'll be more than happy to let you through."

Gosalyn didn't have a nickel to her name, but she'd rather die trying than give them her precious comics. She struggled with all her might as the man in red lifted her in the air with ease. 

Suddenly, a purple cloud of smoke filled the air, and a familiar, annoying voice echoed in the near-empty street.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night."

"Oh no," Gosalyn muttered.

"I am the gum on the sidewalk that sticks to your shoe."

"Not him. Anyone but him!" She said as she clapped her hands together in prayer. 

"I. Am. Darkwing Duck!"

The gang looked at each other with wide eyes as the man in purple held the end of his cape with his hands, like a bat ready to fly. He loomed over them as he stood on the gate. Gosalyn covered her face.

"Who?" They say in unison.

"Darkwing Duck? You might have heard of me on the news?"

No response.

"The terror that flaps in the night?"

Still no response.

"The-You know what, never mind. Don't you know it's against the rules to loiter in front of a park?"

"Oh? Say's who?"

Darkwing pointed the sign below him and said, "I'm willing to let you guys off with a warning if you leave now."

The gang laughed among themselves as they mocked the caped crusader. 

"Oooooohhh~ I'm soooooooo scared~ Hehehehehe!"

"Hahaha! Please, don't tell my mommy! Hahahaha!"

Gosalyn used this opportunity to grab her assailant's hand and bite down as hard as she could.

"Arg!" The man screamed as he dropped Gosalyn onto the ground to tend to his wound.

Gosalyn shot up, ran toward the play structure, and hid behind the slide. She caught her breath and realized she left her skateboard with the group. The gang charged at the structure but were caught by another dense cloud of smoke. 

With two sharp blows to the neck, Darkwing was able to take down the twin cranes with the side of his palm. High on his own confidence, Darkwing was unaware that a ruby red satchel slapped against his cheek. He flew across the court and hit his head against the basketball pole. He put a hand against his throbbing cheek and spit out a tooth. The woman pulled out a taser from her bag.

"You wouldn't hit a lady, would you?"

"The mallet of justice is unisex!"

She pointed the taser at the caped crusader and rushed toward him. He managed to roll away from the attack 

_ T H O N K! _

The feline's head slammed against the pole. Her body dropped to the ground and a large lump formed on her forehead.

"Justine!" The bull called out. His eyes turned red with anger, and steam blew out from his nostrils. He kicked his hind legs behind him and led the charge with his horns. 

Darkwing quickly unbuckled his cape and used it as a guide like a bullfighter in the coliseum. Their eyes locked.

"Let's get dangerous."

Clouds of dirt kicked up in the air. Needle sharp horns tore through the cape as Darkwing wrapped his it around the bull's head. He spotted the skateboard and kicked it toward his hooves. The bull skated across the park as he frantically tried to remove the cape. He managed to throw it off his face but flew toward a tire swing when the board struck a lone rock. Darkwing retrieved his cloak and noted he would have to make another one after tonight.

"My board!" Gosalyn cried out. 

Predatory eyes locked onto hers. "You!" The bear sneered as he showed his teeth at the girl.

Gosalyn climbed the wooden mast of the ship as fast as she could, but the bear climbed up with incredible speed. The pole started to bend and splintered under their weight. Darkwing rushed toward the play structure.

"You have to jump!" He exclaimed.

"What?! Are you crazy?!"

"I'll catch you!"

She didn't have much of a choice in the matter. With the mast broken, Gosalyn lost her hold and fell toward the structure. Her breath was caught in her throat as faint images of her mom flooded her mind. Darkwing quickly climbed the back of the ship and sprinted toward Gosalyn. He jumped forward and caught the girl in his arms. 

_ Ba-Bump Ba-Bump Ba-Bump _

She felt a familiar warmth wrap around her in a gentle squeeze. The artificial smell of lavender detergent emitted from his costume as they slid down the slide. Darkwing landed on his back with his feet still on the end of the slide. 

"You okay?" He asked as he loosened his grip in her.

It took a moment for her to answer. Gosalyn looked over to where the mast fell and saw the gangster landed directly in a trash can. His legs kicked the air as he tried to escape the trashy prison. 

"That was awesome!" She beamed as she shot up to her feet. She walked back and forth, unknowing that she was still on top of the caped crusader. "Did you see that guy's face when you kicked their butts?! That was hysterical. Hahaha! And the way you karate chopped that guy's neck like some 80's action movie. So cool! And here I thought you were just some nerd in a cape."

"That's great to hear," Darkwing said in a strained voice, "but can you get off!"

Gosalyn hopped off and helped Darkwing to his feet. He caught his breath and patted the dust and rubble from his clothes. When he caught a good look at the girl, he recognized her red hair and jacket.

"Wait a minute… I remember you! You're the kid that stole my tires!"

_ Oh shit _ , she thought. "No I'm not! I'm… uh…. Y-You must be talking about my evil twin. Yeah, she's a real bad egg that girl."

Darkwing put his hands to his hips. He raised a brow and asked, "Oh yeah? And where is this 'evil twin'?"

"She's in… uh… The United Kingdom… of… uhh…. Canada?"

"The United Kingdom of Canada?" 

"Yeah! If you take me to my mom's house, I'll be more than happy to help," she smiled as she handed him the slip.

Darkwing scanned the small paper. He squinted his eyes to make sure he read the slip correctly. He asked, "Your mom lives there?" 

"Y-Yeah… Is there a problem with that?"

"No. I guess not. Follow me; we can take my bike."

Gosalyn wasn't sure if Darkwing was a godsend or a nuisance, but she was more than happy to take the invitation for a free ride. They walked down a few streets past late-night food vendors. Her stomach growled at the thought of braised tofu with bok choy. Lined between a few mopeds and scooters was a sleek motorcycle that would put any sports bike to shame. 

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say this is your bike?" She pointed out.

"Pretty cool, huh?" He beamed. "I couldn't get it to look like an exact replica of the because it wasn't 'practical' and 'street-safe'. But this guy's pretty fast, so I make do."

"Does it have flamethrowers?"

"No."

"Heat-seeking missiles?"

"No."

"Oil slick tubes?!"

"Uh… No. But it has cup holders."

Somehow Gosalyn felt the night would last a whole lot longer than she wanted it to.

* * *

With one of the fastest bikes in his possession, Gosalyn thought the masked crusader would've taken some liberties with going over the speed limit for this urgent matter. She had always wanted her own motorbike and marked it down on her list to Santa multiple times. She figured that she could just take his sleigh if he skipped out on her present again this year.

Darkwing slowed down as they arrived at a building that looked as if it had consumed smaller homes and formed a giant structure with a myriad of roofs. Flower pots and pull out chairs lined the balconies above them. Gosalyn recognized the giant red door at the entrance

_ This is it _ , she thought.

Gosalyn hopped off the bike before Darkwing could make a complete stop. This is the moment she waited for. Her heart raced, and her cheeks hurt from her smile. Just a few more steps and she could be back with her, back to her mom.

**St. Canard Senior Living Center**

Gosalyn felt her heart drop down to the earth's core. The night air grew harsh against her feathers as caretakers wheeled the elderly back inside the brightly lit facility. She felt betrayed for some reason, but she mostly felt foolish for ever believing she would meet her mother. Months of saving for bus money, months of practicing how she would greet her mother in front of a mirror, months of hopefulness, all gone to waste. Her vision blurred as tears welled inside her eyes.

"Excuse me, miss."

Gosalyn didn't bother to face who was talking to her.

"Visiting hours are closed. Are you here with someone? Hello? Miss?"

Gosalyn felt her legs take control, and before she knew it, she had sprinted across the perfectly cut lawn. As much as she tried to hold it in, the pain swelled out from her throat like a hidden roar. She found no use to wipe the hot tears from her face as they rolled down her cheeks. She was back to square one.

"Miss!" 

"H-Hey! Wait!" Darkwing called as he hopped off his bike and ran toward the redhead. 

His heart raced as he tried to catch up to her. Darkwing lost the girl for a few moments, and panic ensued. He looked around and found a group of homeless men huddled by the fire in a trashcan. They pointed toward an alley across the street, to which Darkwing acknowledged with a nod. He sprinted down a street littered with trash and stopped in his tracks when he heard the sound of sniffles in the dark alleyway. He followed the sound down toward the and found the girl huddled into herself as she sat beside an overflowing dumpster. 

"What happened back there?" He asked. "I thought-"

"Go away! I -sniff- I wanna be alone!" She barked.

Darkwing wasn't sure what to make of the situation. He took improve, psychology, even art history, but none of them prepared him for this! 

For some reason, he remembered how his sisters would slam the door on his face whenever he tried to comfort them after a bad day. He would sit by the door, talk to them about anything and slide the occasional chocolate bar in hopes that the gesture would cheer them up.

A droplet landed onto Darkwing's beak as the cloudy sky thundered and pelted the city with heavy rain.

Darkwing unbuckled his cape and wrapped it over the girl like a hood. He stood beside her and leaned back against the brick wall. His chest rose as cold air filled his lungs. He breathed out a grey cloud, like a dragon ready to spew fire from its mouth. "You'll catch a cold if you stay out here," he told her.

"I don't care."

He removed his hat and wrung it dry like a towel. It popped back into its original form and resided on its owner's head. "Fine," he blurted as he slid down the wall, "but I'm not leaving you here."

"Whatever," she murmured.

Thousands of liquid pearls pelted the cement and formed deep puddles in an instant. Rain hammered down onto cars with no mercy. Gusts of wind carried a cold that rattled their bones. Darkwing hugged himself and rubbed his arms for an inkling of warmth. He noticed the girl beside him shivered as well. So much for April showers.

"I don't know what's g-going on," he said through shattered teeth, "b-but whatever happened, happened. You can stay out here in the rain and b-be cold all night, or we can go someplace warm. A-Anywhere you want."

A loud growl suddenly cut through the chilly air.

"Maybe a place that has a 24-hour breakfast."

The cotton felt rough against her eyes as Gosalyn wiped her tears. Darkwing saw a smile creep up on the side of her cheek. 

"You'd have to be a dummy to pass up an opportunity to chow down on free food."

The masked duck in purple was right; she'd have to be a dummy to pass up free food.

* * *

Patrons trickled in the glorious fast-food chain under the cover of their jackets as rain poured down onto the city. Wet coats piled high on the coat rack as a waitress moped the puddle that accumulated at the entrance. There was something comforting about the 50s diner-style booths that lined the restaurant and the smell of grease that was so thick that it stuck to skin. Neon lights shone brightly against the window as patrons munched on greasy burgers and piping hot fries, all except for one who ordered the rare, frowned upon whole wheat bagel.

Darkwing gawked at the massive burger piled high in front of the redhead. With the masked crusader paying for her meal, she didn't hesitate to order a double Hippo-burger with extra cheese, extra grilled onions, and extra tomatoes. She scarfed handfuls of golden fries and washed it down with a strawberry milkshake. Her appetite reminded Darkwing of another duck he knew with a black hole for a stomach. 

"I'm guessing you wanna know my tragic backstory or something," Gosalyn blurted with a mouth full of fries.

"Judging from your comically large backpack, I say you're a kid on the run from a troubled home life, and you want to find the person that can take you away from all that, who so happens to be your mother," he deduced as he dipped a piece of his bagel in his coffee. 

"You're good."

"I read a lot of books about the art of deduction. I've been reading about Mrs. Bianca and her time at the Rescue Aid Society, but I mainly read works from one of the greatest detectives of all time, Basil of Baker Street."

"I've heard of that Basil guy," she said with another mouthful of fries. She swallowed her food and continued, "He's a detective from like a thousand years ago. I have a friend who's really into that nerdy stuff. Readings not my thing, though. I'm more of a kick-butt now, ask questions later type of girl."

"Oh yeah," he said in a sarcastic tone. "You were really kickin' butt at the park earlier."

Gosalyn turned her head to hide the cheeks "W-Well, I was just checking to see what you were made of. I didn't wanna hog all the spotlight!"

"Uh-huh. Sure." Darkwing took a sip of his coffee and continued, "Are you running from a boarding school or evil step-parents, perhaps?"

"That's classified information. You're gonna have to roll for charisma to unlock that." Gosalyn knew that was the nerdiest thing she's said and blamed it on Honker and his damn dungeon games.

Darkwing admitted defeat and continued to eat his bagel. They were strangers after all, so there was no need to push anything onto her. Although, he still wondered about the fate of his tires.

They continued to eat their food as jazz music emitted from a beaten up jukebox. The elderly waitress came around with a steaming pot of coffee and filled Darkwings cup to the top. She also brought Gosalyn a tall glass of orange juice. It was at that moment that Gosalyn knew something was missing about the caped crusader.

"Who's the big guy you were with at the restaurant?" The redhead blurted. 

"I'm not sure I can tell you. That's classified information."

"Touché. I just wanna know why a pretty guy like him is hangin' out with a guy in that looks like a grape sneezed on him?"

Darkwing paid no mind to her comment.

"He was lookin' at you all googly-eyed n' stuff. Is he your sidekick or something?"

Darkwing stopped mid-bite into his bagel. He swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck. "H-he's not my sidekick," he stuttered. "He's my friend-er. I mean, he's a little more than a friend. But not my boyfriend! That'd be crazy! Hahaha!" 

"Oh my gosh, you're in love with him."

“SSSSSSHHHHHH!” He hushed as he smashed his finger to her beak. He whispered, "Someone could hear you."

Gosalyn looked around to find a man snoring at his booth and a couple making out at the other end of the restaurant. Their food remained untouched and cold. "I sincerely doubt that," she whispered.

Darkwing sat back in his chair and sighed. "I really screwed up last time."

"What'd you do?" She said before she took a sip of her shake.

"I accidentally proposed to him."

Gosalyn spit out some of her juice onto her food before she shoved her hand to her beak. She swallowed the drink and laughed with her arms wrapped around her stomach. "Haha! How do you 'accidentally' propose to someone?! Hahaha!"

Darkwing pulled his hat down to cover his flustered face. He wanted nothing more than to hide away in his room for the rest of his life. "I don't know. Ughhhh, it was so embarrassing."

"It's the funniest thing I've ever heard! Hahaha!" She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Her throat hurt from laughing so much, and she swore she formed a six pack from how much her stomach ached. "How'd he react?" She asked out of breath.

"He took it… surprisingly well. I passed out, so I don't remember much of what happened, but he stayed by my side that entire night."

Gosalyn took a moment to catch her breath. She hadn't laughed like that since Hoker super-glued his back to the bed, so he'd have an excuse not to join PE. "He sounds like a nice guy," she commented.

"He is!" Darkwing exclaimed a little too enthusiastically. "He's kind and thoughtful and handsome and-"

"Yuck! I think I'm gonna barf," she said before she took a bite of her burger.

Darkwing felt his cheeks turn red when he realized he went off in a tangent. "I don't think he feels the same for me, and I'm not even sure if he likes men," he sulked. "Although, he did tell me that he dated his clone," he added.

"Adults are so weird."

"Embrace your youth, kid. One minute you're swinging on monkey bars, and then the next, you're working two jobs to pay off student loans. So much student loans..."

"My name's not 'kid,'" she told him matter of factly. "It's Gosalyn."

"It's nice to finally put a name to the little trouble maker in black finally," he joked. Darkwing extended his arm out toward her and said, "I'm Darkwing Duck."

Gosalyn stared at his hand for a few moments. It was strange to see an adult give her so much respect. She returned his gesture and shook his hand. Could this be the start of a beautiful friendship?

"You know, I've always wondered what happened to my tires."

_ Crap! _ She thought. "Hehe, about that..." she trailed off in a nervous laugh. She looked at her wrist to read her imaginary watch and gasped at the time. She stretched her arms up and yawned, "It's gettin' pretty late. I should be going, or else I'll miss my bus. It was nice meeting you, Darkwing!"

Before she had the chance to leave the booth, Darkwing injected, "Are you sure you should go on the bus at this hour? It'd be safer if I dropped you off at your house."

"Nah. It's cool. I've taken the bus at night soooooo many times I know the driver by name. She's a real doll."

"At least let me drop you off at the station."

Gosalyn figured there would be no winning the argument and allowed him to chaperone her. She thought he could pay him back when she's in her forties or something. With the rain done and gone, Drake paid for the meal and gave a generous tip.

Once they seated themselves at the empty bus stop, they both pulled out their comics at the same moment. The caped crusader pulled out  _ Darkwing Duck _ issue #266, whereas Gosalyn pulled out  _ The Mighty Ducks _ comic she read earlier. 

Gosalyn managed to read a few pages before she caught something in the corner of her eye. She glanced to her side and noticed her companions tail wagging side to side as he read the book. It was a trait she'd seen many times with the younger kids at the foster home. Their little tails wagged non-stop whenever Mrs. Helen made cupcakes for everyone or when she promised them an extra hour of playtime. Gosalyn stopped when she was around seven years old, but she figured some ducks never grew out of it.

As the bus came to a halt, Gosalyn shot up from her seat and waited eagerly as her hands gripped the straps of her backpack. She couldn't wait to crawl into bed. 

Before she could climb into the bus, Darkwing told her, "Promise me you won't go getting yourself into trouble."

"Yes,  _ dad _ ," she joked.

"Pinky promise?"

The dreaded promise of the pinkies. A ritual as ancient as lighting the Olympic torch and flossing after every meal. Irritated eyes locked onto her with every second that passed. Even the driver grew impatient from her forced coughs. As much as she wanted to hurry inside the bus, Gosalyn couldn't let his small finger be exposed to the cold winds. Darkwing was kind enough to pay for her meal and not take her to jail. It was the least she could do.

"Pinky promise."


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't watched the Launchpad short, which I'm sure you thirsty fuckers already have, I recommend you watch it real quick before you read it.
> 
> If you did, then enjoy :D

Drake Mallard spent the last week quarantined in his apartment after he came down with a cold. Hours spent roaming the city in soaking wet clothes could do that to even the most hardened heroes. Even though he’d rather be out fighting for justice, he didn’t mind being glued in front of the T.V playing Duck Fighter III. But with every passing day, he yearned for the feeling of the wind against his feathers. 

The moment his fever dropped, he put on his hat and cape and rushed to the roof of his apartment. He took a deep breath and jumped from the apartment building. He held the ends of his cape with his hands and soared above a couple of buildings until he reached the roof of the St. Canard Bank. He was greeted by a starry-eyed Launchpad and a blinding flash from his phone.

“Blinded by the overwhelming energy from his convivial confidant,” Darkwing monologed as he rubbed his eyes, “our hero has been.”

“Sorry, DW. You just looked so cool.” 

Darkwing forced a nervous cough into his fist as he felt his cheeks grow pink. “A-Anyway, thanks for taking the time to meet me here, LP. How’s the party planning going?”

“It goin’ great!” He replied as he pulled out a large blueprint from his inside pocket. He showed Darkwing sketches “I’m in charge of buildin’ the set up for the party. Donald and his sister argue a lot about what they want the theme to be, but I ended up asking the kids what they wanted instead. Not really sure how I’m gonna get Louie the Crown of Bavaria though.” 

Darkwing hasn't formally met Launchpad’s employer or his family yet, but he felt as if he knew almost everything about them. From his adventures with the triplets to their wealthy great uncle being an extreme cheapskate, to their mother being lost in space for ten years. Drake was always fond of Launchpad’s ability to make himself comfortable around anyone. It was something Darkwing wished he was better at.

“It’s their first birthday at the mansion and their first birthday with their mom after she came back from the moon. I want this to be perfect.”

“Just give it some time. You still have another month to think of something,” Darkwing reassured. “You’re good at that kind of stuff.”

“Thanks, DW. What about you? You feelin’ better?”

“Never better,” he said in a strained voice as he stretched his arms. “After being confined to my feverish fever, I’ve been keeping my mind occupied by watching the news. Apparently, there’s been a lot of illegal weapons circulating around the city. I’ve managed to pinpoint their location to a club called _ Cinderella’s Castle _ .” 

“Oh! I’ve been there once, and it’s not as magical as people say it is. Their Glass Slipper Martini is too strong for me.”

“It’s one of Taurus Bulba’s main hangouts. He’s managed to evade jail time and time again, which is why I’m going… ” Darkwing trailed off as he engulfed himself in his cape. He changed his purple attire for a cheap blonde wig, a green dress shirt, and large glasses. “Undercover!”

Launchpad slapped his hands to his cheeks and gasped with excitement. “Just like the original Darkwing Duck! That’s so cool!”

“I know!”

After a few moments spent being fanboys, they took a deep breath and collected themselves. Within a blink of an eye, Darkwing managed to change back into his original attire. There was an air of seriousness in the air.

“This could be my big break, LP,” Darkwing blurted as he adjusted his hat. “No more being known as the weird purple guy from the moon invasion. I can finally make myself worthy of being called Darkwing Duck.”

Launchpad put a hand to Darkwing’s shoulder. “I think you’re more than worthy already, DW,” he reassured. “You’re the coolest purple weirdo I know.”

Though he took his comment to heart, Darkwing knew from conversations he overheard at coffee shops and online forums that others felt differently about him. He’s never cared about what others thought of him, but ever since he picked up the mantle he knew he’d have to keep a good image.

Darkwing leaped onto the railing of the roof with ease. His chest out and his fists placed onto his waist. The crisp wind blew against his feathers as every gust flowed across his cape effortlessly. The crescent moon hung above him against a starless sky while the city lights below glowed into bright orbs. For that moment, it felt as if the city was his.

“The smell of villainy is in the air, and I am the only one that can disinfect it. I’ll put an end to this evildoers scheme if it’s the last thing I do. Nothing, not even the common cold can stop the invulnerable, invincible Darkwing Duck!”

_ C L I C K _

“Setting as my wallpaper…”

“Let me see,” Darkwing beamed as he dropped to Launchpad’s side and looked at his phone. “That’s a great shot, LP! I knew those modeling classes paid off!”

* * *

They hid around a corner as they watched people idle around the entrance of the club. Two large security guards were posted outside the door, with bright lights and loud music emitted from behind them. Their expressionless faces hid behind dark shades and pressed black suits.

Darkwing, clad in his discount costume, instructed Launchpad to stay behind as they headed toward the club. Darkwing half expected to be met with hostility, but was mildly surprised to find Launchpad already acquainted with the security.

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m friends with everybody,” he reminded the costumed crusader.

For a Thursday night, it seemed like everyone and their mothers came to dance the night away. Darkwing and Launchpad stood by a poster of Power Line as they scoped the scene. Darkwing thought it would’ve been a whole lot easier to find a bull among the flock.

“We’ll never find Bulba at this rate.”

“Well, we’re not gonna get much done by standin’ around like a couple of wallflowers.”

Darkwing never realized how small his hands were until Launchpad wrapped his fingers around his. It normally would’ve taken a crane to drag him onto the dancefloor or the threat of having his video games taken away by his mother, but the redhead’s natural charisma got the better of him. It was for the sake of the mission, right?

The wooden floor creaked beneath their feet with every step. Neon lights flashed in a myriad of saturated colors to music that brought nostalgia to the crowd. Hands waved high in the air and their heads swayed without a single care in the world. Everyone was fed by each other's exuberance and hype, more so once Launchpad stepped into the scene.

His olive-green uniform stood out among the crowd of constricting dresses and sweat-stained dress shirts. Launchpad was a natural, with every sway of his body purposeful and confident. Darkwing was sure that he stepped on his foot, but Launchpad seemed unfazed, his smile as big as ever. He held out a hand toward Darkwing, which he almost accepted until someone pushed him from behind. 

Darkwing’s face smashed against Launchpad’s chest as arms wrapped around the smaller duck. Darkwing paid no mind to the throbbing pain in his beak as he melted into his arms. He felt his cheeks grow red and everything seemed to slow down. As the music slowed, and all he could hear was his heart pounding against his chest. Suddenly, a wave of drunken dancers cut between them and they were separated between a sea of bodies.

The booming bass from the music hammered against his bones as he looked around to find any sign of Launchpad. There was an uncomfortable heat that stuck onto his body which worsened with every move. Bodies mashed against his as he tried to maneuver through the crowd. Faces melted into one another. Beads of sweat rolled down his face. His chest felt tight and he found it harder to breathe. He needed to leave. He wanted to leave.

He was lost.

It would be a full minute before he realized he was being led to the bar away from the dancefloor. Darkwing’s hands rested on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“You okay, DW?” The familiar voice asked. “You don’t look too good.”

“I’m…. I’m fine-just… just give me a minute,” the smaller duck breathed. 

Launchpad handed him a glass of water and massaged his shoulder. “What happened back there? You froze like a deer in front of headlights.”

Heavy breathing and sweaty palms reminded Darkwing why he was never a fan of going out. He would’ve succumbed to the stress, but having Launchpad massage his shoulder with tenderness and concern helped him get a hold of himself. He drank the water and handed the empty cup to his friend. Darkwing put a hand on top of Launchpads.

“I’m alright now, LP,” Darkwing reassured. “We just need to make a new plan.”

Darkwing noticed more people spilling onto the scene. He could barely make out what Launchpad had said to him. As much as he wanted to be far from the crowd, he knew he'd have to hop back into the lion's den. 

“Stick close to me, LP. We mustn't draw attention to ourselves… LP?’

He scanned the room to find his companion in the middle of the dancefloor doing the worm. The crowd slowly started to form around the larger duck while he was cutting a rug. As much as he wanted to watch Launchpad dance the Kazotsky kick, he knew he had a job to do. He scanned the area and found another pair of guards posted by the kitchen door. 

At the entrance for the kitchen, he noticed two more security guards standing in front of a VIP lounge. He recognized the man on the couch as the same bull he had encountered at the park two weeks ago. He texted away on his phone and had a large bruise beneath his jaw covered in a concealer about two shades lighter than his skin. Darkwing noticed his leg bouncing and over a dozen empty martini glasses. With the crowd averted to his companion, Darkwing was able to move through the crowd with more ease.

As expected, he was met with hostility from the guards.

“What the hell do you want?” The bull asked in an irritated tone.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Darkwing said in a deep tone, “but I was hoping to make your acquaintance. I heard that you’re the right guy to come to when you need some extra packing.”

“Get lost. I’m not in the mood.”

“I have a lot of money.”

The bull’s ear popped up. He met eyes with the duck and asked, “How much we talkin’?”

Darkwing pulled out a fake screenshot of his account and showed it to the bull. The bull grinned.

He stood up from his seat and walked past the costumed duck. “Follow me,” he said.

Darkwing followed behind the bull, with the two guards behind them, as they passed through a busy kitchen through another door. They passed by rusty water pipes lined against concrete walls to get to a room down the hall. A faded black sofa laid against a bleached wall and a small coffee table under the weight of a ton of magazines.

“Wait here,” the bull demanded before he left Darkwing in the room with his guards.

Darkwing waited a few minutes in the quiet space before he used the pretend-to-drop-his-eye-drops-and-hit-them-with-knockout-gas trick. Once the guards were unconscious, he unlatched the vent and crawled through the dusty tunnel. His adolescence spent crawling inside indoor playgrounds at fast-food chains prepared him for that very moment. He crawled passed the kitchen and a few more waiting rooms before his attention went to shouts he heard down the vents. He followed the shouts to a vent that led to a room filled with Italian furniture and expensive cognac. The man he had seen a few minutes ago laid on the floor with a hand on his cheek. A larger bull towered over him.

“You imbecile! You absolute moron!”

His words were articulate and precise. He had a voice that could command any room. His pressed suit looked like it was worth more than a man who owned a dingy nightclub could afford. Two large horns grew from the side of his head into needle-sharp points and a gigantic, gold ring hung from his nose.

Taurus Bulba.

Taurus was a great actor, full of dramatics and pizazz, but he took it one step too far when he started his own gang once the show was canceled. Other than the gut that rolled over his belt and a few grey strands, he was as menacing as his villainous persona. Darkwing pulled out his phone and recorded the situation.

“How many times must I have to tell you not to allow anyone to pass the kitchen without my permission?!”

“B-But sir, h-h-he said he’s got m-money,” the smaller bull stuttered in a nervous sweat. “W-W-We can use his money to bail J-Justine outta jail.”

“You idiot!” Taurus yelled as he threw a punch straight toward his cheek. His golden rings smeared in red stains. “I don’t care if your wench is behind bars! And I don’t care if he’s the richest duck in the world! I can’t have my work jeopardized again! Do you understand?!”

The bull lowered his head, he seemed small and powerless. “I… I understand, sir.”

“No, I don’t believe you do.”

“I won’t make any more mistakes… I-I promise.”

It seemed as if the former star considered it for a second. He sat on his leather chair and turned his back toward the smaller bull. A thin trail of smoke trailed from the chair.

“This is a waste of my time. Get him out of here.” A guard helped him to his feet and escorted him to the door... Before the two left the room, Taurus called for his attention. “Just a moment, my dear nephew,” he said with a sinister grin as he turned his chair to face his kin. “Do me a favor, and tell your mother I said hello.”

His nephew froze in place for a few moments. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes. He nodded and he was escorted out of the room.

Taurus pulled out a file from one of the drawers and wrote something with a fountain pen. Darkwing tried to zoom in on the paper but was unable to make out what he was writing. He’d need some sort of distraction to get closer to the document.

_ Knock Knock Knock _

Two more guards entered the room with a redhead between them. Darkwing felt his heart drop when he realized the unlucky man was none other than Launchpad. He looked as though he was caught in a tornado, with his hair messy and his tie undone.

“Who the hell is this sweaty bloke?” 

“He’s the one that left the letter on your car after he crashed his plane onto your car.”

“Him?!” The bull pointed as he shot up from his chair. Taurus strode toward him and poked his chest with his finger. “You?! You did that?! Of all the things I’ve seen in my life. How stupid do you have to be to crash a plane onto a car that belonged to the most powerful man in the city?”

Launchpad shrugged. “I dunno, but I think you'd do the same thing too if you were on a plane and saw a cute dog you wanted to pet.”

Taurus’ face froze with disbelief. His lips curled and he held his stomach as he let out a loud, hearty laugh. Launchpad raised a brow when the guards followed suit with uncomfortable chuckles.

“I suppose you have a point there,” he said as he wiped a tear from his eye. “You seem to have enjoyed yourself.”

“Oh yeah! The crowd’s really feelin’ it tonight. This bachelorette party started dancin’ with me and they kept putting money in my pants. One of them said they’d give me fifty bucks if I took off my shirt, but I told her no cuz this is the shirt with my favorite ranch stain on it.”

Darkwing was glad no one heard him slap his own face.

“Hmmm, charming.”

“What should we do with him?” A guard asked.

Taurus took a long drag from a cigar and blew out from his nose toward the disheveled duck. Launchpad held his breath until the smoke disappeared. “Write a ransom letter to Mr. McDuck. I’m sure he would be more than appreciative if we kept his son safe and sound. Gag him and take him to the back.”

“NO!”

Heads turned and ears pointed around the room as they tried to locate the disembodied call. Darkwing kicked down the screen and dropped a handful of smoke bombs onto the floor. He changed his costume to his plum-colored attire. Darkwing stood on top of the table with his cape draped over his arm to cover his beak.

“I am the terror that flaps in the night,” he proclaimed. “I am the headache that comes the morning after Happy Hour. I. Am-”

“Darkwing Duck.”

“That’s right. And I’m taking you in, Taurus Bulba.”

“I thought I told you I’m through making myself look like a fool for your ridiculous show,” he stated. Taurus’ face changed from anger to confusion. “Wait a minute, you’re not Sterling. That hazbin went completely mad and got himself killed. You’re his replacement.”

“I like to think of myself as his self-appointed successor.”

“Well whatever you are, you are about to be as dead as him,” he declared as he pulled out a gun.

Before Taurus could pull the trigger, Darkwing leaped toward him and kicked the gun out of his hand. 

“Shoot him!” Taurus demanded.

As the guards pulled out their guns, Launchpad grabbed the guard on his right by his arm and twirled him onto the other. Launchpad kicked the guns away from them and held his own against the two guards.

Darkwing dodged balled fists left and right. He dropped to the floor and swirled his heel in a circle to knock down the large bull. Darkwing shot up to a semi-squat and backflipped away from Taurus. His fists ready like a boxer waiting for the next round.

“I must admit,” Taurus said as he stood up. He brushed his suit with his hand and continued, “you have a lot more vigor than our dearly departed friend.”

Darkwing felt his eye twitch when he brought up Jim again. He spoke, “Thank you. I owe it to my yoga instructor.”

“Oh? Then let me join you in some breathing exercises!” He belted as he rushed toward the duck.

Darkwing jumped over the towering bull, but Taurus managed to grab his ankle and throw him onto the bookshelf. Hardcover books rained on his head and piled onto his body. His head throbbed from the pain, but he couldn’t be troubled by it. Taurus grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up to the eye level. He must’ve weighed no more than a feather to the bull.

Darkwing balled his fist and punched Taurus right on the cheek. His face remained unfazed as Darkwing’s fist pressed his cheek into rolls. Darkwing gulped.

Taurus snarled, “Now you’ve done it…”

He grabbed Darkwing by the throat and launched him toward the wall. Darkwing’s body caved against the drywall and formed a largely white, dusty cloud.

“Darkwing!” Launchpad called out as he dropped the unconscious guard on top of the other.

Taurus grabbed him by the ankle and threw him toward the redhead. Launchpad caught the battered crusader in his arms. His body was covered in pure white dust.

“Darkwing, are you okay?!”

“Jusssssst some internal bleeding... dasallll,” he slurred.

“Phew~ That’s a relief. That’s where the blood’s supposed to be.”

Once Darkwing came too, he patted his body in a panic and felt the color leave his face when he saw Taurus holding his phone. He crushed his phone with his fist and dropped the shattered bits onto the floor. He pulled out a handgun from a drawer and pointed it at them. Darkwing felt Launchpad tighten his grip.

“I must say, you’ve got to be one delusional nutcase to believe you could escape here alive,” he declared. “This isn’t the same children's show you watched on Saturday nights. The heroes don’t always win, not everything is black and white, and you don’t defeat villains with rubber chickens. This is the cold, harsh reality.”

Darkwing stumbled up onto his feet. The throbbing pain in his head hammered even harder and his feet felt like he was standing on needles. Even so, he brushed the dust from his body and puffed his chest out. “It’s only a harsh reality because criminals like you make it so,” he said in a strained voice. “People… Good people live in fear because of jerks like you... But that’s why I wear the mask. That’s why I want to bring happiness and hope to people living in fear. That’s why I’m Darkwing Duck.”

He was taken back to the day when he left home for Saint Canard, the day he first met Launchpad, and the day he shared a meal with a feisty little girl. “I’m taking you down whether you like it or not, Bulba.”

“Sentimental rubbish,’ Taurus chuckled. He pulled back the hammer and stated, “Any last words?”

Darkwing looked over to his partner. He didn’t know if he looked at him because it might be the last time they see each other, or if it was because he was looking for some sort of sign of approval. Launchpad gave him his signature smile and nodded. Darkwing pulled out his gas gun and declared, “Suck gas evil-doer!” 

He blew a canister straight at his gun, which knocked it to the ground. He shot another canister and the room was filled with a cloud of thick grey smoke. Taurus’ hacks and raspy coughs filled the room as Drake tried to find his partner. He felt a hand grab his arm and pull him out of the room. He swatted the gas away from his face and found Launchpad coughing into his fist. 

“Damn it!” Darkwing blurted. “I didn’t get the folder!”

“You mean this?” Launchpad said as he pulled out the leather folder from his shirt. “It looked important, so I grabbed it just in case.”

Darkwing flipped through the folders and found transactions with dealers and locations. He couldn’t be happier. A little irritated that he’d have to go get a new phone in the morning, but still elated nonetheless. “Great job, LP! Why I could just kiss you!” Darkwing’s face grew hot when he realized what he had just said out loud.

“Maybe later! We’ve got company!” 

Darkwing turned his head and saw about a dozen guards running towards them. He slid the folder into his jacket and sprinted down the hall with Launchpad. They pushed their way through the crowd with “excuse me” and “pardon me” and ran toward the exit.

Launchpad waved goodbye to the guards that stood by the door as they sprinted past them. After the other guards ran after them, they followed suit. With Launchpad ahead of him, Darkwing knocked over trash cans and wooden planks. He could hear the men chasing them tumbling and tripping from behind.

Suddenly, Launchpad grabbed his arm and pulled him toward a crevasse that barely fit the two. He wrapped his arms tightly around the duck. They waited there with repressed breaths until the echoes of their footsteps disappeared. 

“I think… I think we lost them,” Darkwing panted as he tried to catch his breath. Just as he tried to wiggle himself from Launchpad’s embrace, he was pulled closer toward the larger man's chest.

Darkwing felt his chest rise and fall with every breath he took. The warmth they shared made him melt against his muscular body. Darkwing felt a hand slowly slide up his back and rest against the nape of his neck. His eyes closed as he leaned closer to Darkwings face. 

He wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline from the chase or the utter shock that they were still alive, but Darkwing wasn’t able to piece the situation together. He blurted, “What’re you…”

Launchpad’s eyes shot wide open. 

He yanked his hands away from Darkwing’s person and stared at him with wide, confused eyes.

“I… I’m sorry… I-I thought… I don’t know what got over me. I think the adrenaline rush kicked in a little too much,” he remarked with a laugh, only it didn’t sound like his normal playful banter. He rubbed the back of his neck and his eyes were glued to the floor. The soft countenance dissipated along with the blush on his cheeks. “I-I think we head back home. I can drop you off on the way.”

“... Right.”

Darkwing Duck thought that it would be best to pretend that nothing happened. They made their way to Launchpad’s car in strained silence.

They should’ve celebrated their success, instead, they parted as if nothing happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaddya think? Sorry it took me a hot minute to write. I was sidetracked with Kung Fu Panda's beautiful storytelling and the days keep fading into one another. 
> 
> Next chapter will come soon fingers crossed.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here come that stinky sewer man

Dr. Helen found out about Gosalyn's late-night excursion after running into her in the kitchen with her backpack by the fridge, her bus pass in hand, and a mouthful of leftover macaroni salad stuffed in her cheeks. After another trip to the office, Dr. Helen revoked her outside privileges again, and the young duck spent her days reading comics in her room. Honker joined her as the other kids played outside. Gosalyn always appreciated Honker's company, even if it was more of a way for him to avoid getting hit in the head with a ball. 

Gosalyn was aware that Honker knew her mission was a failure and was thankful he didn't press her about that night. Honker's genius had its perks, that's for sure, but she was back to square one. She didn't have an address, a phone number, or even a name. All she was left with was a memory that faded with every passing day. 

If that wasn't enough on her plate, Dr. Helen gave the kids a mandatory assignment at the foster home. She cut a deal with the local art museum to have their artwork shown and open for auction, and all the proceeds would go straight to the orphanage. The prompt:  **Heroes** .

Gosalyn would've rather dug through her files again to see if she overlooked anything, but found this as a rare opportunity to show her love of the famous hockey players from Anaheim. She propped her blank canvas on a chair and stared at it in hopes that something would come to mind. 

She could clip a couple of comics strips to her canvas, maybe add some bold lines with her pastels and BOOM! The masterpiece of the century! Or, it could be the masterpiece of the century if she worked up the courage to draw something. 

Pastels and colored pencils littered the floor of their room. Gosalyn pressed a yellow pastel onto the paper and immediately wanted to hurl it out the window. She looked over at Honker for inspiration but found him on his stomach with his eyes glued in front of a comic book instead. She peered over his shoulder and saw a familiar masked man in a purple cape using his gas gun on his enemies. And just when Gosalyn thought she had seen the last of that nosy superhero.

"Is that Darkwing Duck?" She asked, even though she knew the answer.

Without taking his eyes off of the page, Honker answered, "Yes, but I-I'm surprised you know about him s-since all you read is  _ Mighty Ducks _ ."

"Hey! That's not all I read!" She defended as she laid on her stomach beside him. "I know my fair share of the classics, like  _ Sailor Moon _ and  _ One Punch Duck _ ."

"You should read some of his c-comics too. It's full of action and v-violence, so I know you'll like it. However, his d-detective work is far more fascinating. He uses a technique called the..."

As Honker went on another one of his rants, Gosalyn focused on the striking colors of Darkwing's rogue's gallery and the thick line work. It was so goofy and just as cartoony as she imagined it to be. She didn't want to bring Honker's hopes down, but the comic wasn't really her style. She wanted more grit, more gritty, and above all, less purple. 

"He kind of reminds me of Wildwing."

"What?!" Gosalyn exclaimed. "Have you lost your marbles, Honker?! He's nothing like Wildwing! Wildwing is smart and brave and handsome and waaaay taller than Darkwing. And he doesn't go stickin' his beak in other people's business."

Honker raised a brow with a tilt of his head. He asked, "How do you know that?"

"I met him last week."

Gosalyn swore she heard his jaw drop to the floor. "Y-Y-You met him?! H-How?! Did you get an autograph?! What was h-he like?!"

Gosalyn shrugged. "He was alright, I guess." 

"Alright?" He repeated with an offended tone. "Y-You get the chance to meet D-Darkwing Duck, and all you have to say about him is t-that he's 'alright'. W-What kind of k-kid are you?"

"That's 'cause I'm not an ordinary kid, Honker," she explained as she turned toward him and tilted her head to the side. She raised her arms as she staggered toward the smaller bird. "I'm a brain-eating zombie, and your big brain is lookin' soooooooo tasssstttttyyyy ughhhh," she groaned with her tongue hanging on the side of her beak. 

"I'm s-serious, Gosalyn," he said as he pushed her slobbering face away from him. "The chances of you encountering a h-hero is o-one in a million. How did you meet him?"

Gosalyn thought it would've been better if she had spared her friend of the finer details of the night. "I ran into him while I was tryin' to look for my mom," she explained. "Didn't work out obviously since I'm still here, but he did buy me a burger, which was pretty nice."

"That's so awesome."

"Yeah…" Gosalyn had to admit that it was pretty nice of Darkwing to help her out of a pinch and watching him fight was pretty cool. She wasn't used to adults giving so much as a side glance, let alone buying her a nice meal. Of course, if they ever ran into each other again, she'd never say it to his face. "I'm tellin' ya Honk, if I ever become a superhero I’ll fly far away from here. I can find my mom without havin’ everyone on my case all the time. I know she’s waiting for me out there. She’ll give me a big ole hug and a kiss, and we can be together again."

"D-Does this m-mean you'll stop stealing s-stuff?"

"There you go with the questions again, Honk."

"Hey, Honker!" A voice boomed. Gosalyn tried to peek outside their fort but was interrupted when someone threw the tarp away. In front of her stood a heavyset boy wearing a black beanie and a red baseball tee with an orange cat in a police uniform. His face in its normal state crunched at the nose and eyes thirsty for blood. "I thought I told you to finish my work before dinner! Get your face outta those stupid comic books, or else I'm gonna rip it away from ya!"

"I-I-I k-know I p-p-promised, T-T-T-Tank, bu-bu-bu-"

"Buh-Buh-Buh-But what?"

Gosalyn stood up and cut between the two brothers. She hid her tightened fists in her front pocket. "Lay off, Tank. Don't get mad at Honker just 'cause you're too stupid to draw a stick figure."

"Whaddya say, you little runt?"

The boy was only a year older than her, but he stood almost two heads taller than her. Gosalyn thought it must've been from the discounted milk Dr. Helen always bought. "You heard what I said," she sneered. "Or are your ears too full of wax to hear anything? You should really take better care of yourself; otherwise, someone would think they're adopting a dirty pig instead of a big, dumb bully!"

"Why you!"

Without warning, Gosalyn knocked Tank down onto the floor before he could land a punch and pummeled his face with a rain of fists. Tank tried to hit back but was overwhelmed by the smaller ducks unrelenting fury. Blood oozed from his nose, and Gosalyn felt her knuckles burn. Pencils crunched beneath their weight as they rolled around the floor. Pastels smeared onto Gosalyn's clothes and face and managed to get into her eye. As Gosalyn tried to wipe the paint off her face, she felt a heavy hand grab her hair and yank hard enough to knock her down to her knees. She felt as though her head would pop off any second.

Honker, who shivered in the corner of the room, worked up the courage to run up to them and grab the back of Tank's shirt. "Stop it Tank!" He yelled as he tried to pull him away from his friend. "Leave her alone!"

Tank pushed Honker away onto the wall with enough force to knock his glasses from his face. Gosalyn felt a fiery red rage ignite in her at the sight of her friend crying on the floor. Her body shook, and She raised her leg and smashed Tank's foot with enough force to make him let her go. Gosalyn grabbed Tank's arm and bit down on it with all her might.

"OWW!" Tank cried out as Gosalyn sunk her teeth deeper into his arm. He yanked his arm from her bite and stumbled back with tears streaming down his cheeks. Her teeth left a sizable impression, and a thin trail of blood rolled down his arm. "I'm-I'm telling!" He yelled as he ran out of the room.

Gosalyn took a moment to catch her breath. She looked down at her shaken, bruised knuckles. Red smeared across her knuckles, and her jacket was covered in pastel stains. Everything felt like a blur like someone else had taken over. She hated whenever she lost control of her temper, even if some people deserved her wrath. For that moment, she came to understand why someone would leave a kid like her at a foster home. 

"You okay, Honk?" She asked as she helped the teary-eyed duck to his feet. Gosalyn picked up his glasses and adjusted them on his face. "I can't believe you're related to that jerk," she said as she picked a feather from her teeth with her pinkie. "He's your big brother for Pete's sake. You already get enough crap from the other kids. He should be taking care of you, not pick on you all the time. I otta knock some sense into that pea brain of his."

Honker sat back down against the bed with his knees pulled to his chest, his Darkwing comic in his hands. He sniffled, "D-Don't' be so hard on him, Gos. He's been through a lot."

Gosalyn remembered the day the brothers entered the orphanage. They came on a summer day when the house was boiling, and Gosalyn was in the middle of another escape plan. Honker looked so small and frail next to his enormous brother. It was the only time she'd seen them so close without Tank bothering him. Gosalyn thought nothing of the smaller duck until he caught her sneaking out of the house and respectfully "zipped" his beak shut. Thus a beautiful friendship blossomed from there. It would take almost a full year before he told her what happened to his parents.

All he remembered was his brother waking him up in the middle of the night to a room full of smoke. The brothers sat next to each other on the back of a firetruck as they watched firefighters enter their blazing home throughout the night. All they could do was watch and wait.

So they waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Gosalyn recalled Honker telling her that his dad was always so careful when he put out the grill. "All it took was a spark, and they were gone," he said.

Gosalyn and Honker cleaned the room and gathered the broken pencils and pastels. Gosalyn grabbed Honker’s comic and placed it on his bed.

Honker headed to the door. "You should wash your face b-before the paint dries up," he said. "I'll tell Mrs. Helen what happened. You're already in enough t-trouble as it is."

"Try to put as much blame on Tank as possible. I don't want her to take away my T.V. privileges for the rest of my life. I got re-runs to watch."

A smile crept across Honker's face. He nodded and left the room.

As Gosalyn picked up the rest of the pencils, she noticed her shadow stretched across the floor as the sun lowered behind her. Only this time, her shadow stretched to a familiar shape in a large hat. 

She sighed. 

Just her luck.

"I dunno how you found me, but I didn't steal those coins at the fountain." 

"It's nice to know that the kiddies are scramblin' to make ends meet too. Makes me think we're doing something right in this economy."

Gosalyn was startled when she didn't recognize the voice. It was lower and rough.

"Darkwing?" She said as she turned her head. 

Gosalyn's eyes widened when she realized his usual attire wasn't purple, but an eye-straining lemon color. His coat was stained, and it smelled as if cigarette smoke clung to his feathers. His pitch-black cape and red hat ripped at the ends. A pair of eyes rippled into different shades of blue and green. He was the same size as Darkwing, but his back curled into a slouch, and his legs bent under his weight. 

"Hey! You're not Darkwing," she said as she pointed at his person. "Your colors are all weird lookin'."

"I prefer the term improved. You got a problem with how I look?" He said in a low, growling tone. 

"No, just that you look like you got sneezed on by a hot dog, that's all. Who're you supposed to be anyway?"

The mysterious man smiled as if he'd been waiting for that question for a long time. His wicked grin revealed sharpened teeth. He grabbed the ends of his cape and wrapped it around his body. 

"I am the  _ horror  _ that haunts your dreams. I am the nail against the floorboards of depravity. I. Am.  _ Negaduck _ ."

"... okay."

Negaduck froze as he towered over the undaunted girl. "This is usually the part where people tremble before me."

"I've seen a lot of horror movies, and yellow doesn't really make me wanna scream and run." 

Negaduck's fingers curled into his palm as he bared his teeth. "Why you little!" Before he could finish, he took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. He straightened his collar and continued, "You got guts, kid. More than I can say for most six-year-olds."

"I'm nine."

"Whatever. Point is, I need that in a good help-for-hire."

"Help-for-hire?" She repeated with a raised brow. "So, you're tellin' me that you broke in here just to give me a job? You must be really desperate."

"Not desperate, just depraved."

Gosalyn pretended to understand that word. "So, what? You want me to mow your lawn or somethin'? I don't work for free, ya know."

The stranger held out a thick roll of green bills held together by a rubber band. Gosalyn gawked at the wad of money as if it were a holy object. She guessed there were at least a couple thousand dollars between his fingers. It made her feel insecure about the shoebox full of loose change she kept under her bed.

"Keen gear! That's a whole lot of dough. When do I start?"

"Not so fast, kid," he said as he put the roll back in his pocket. "I didn't even tell you about your mission yet. You see, I'm a  _ very  _ important man, so I can't go out much without swarms of adoring fans falling at my feet."

Gosalyn swore she heard a cricket chirp.

"I need someone who can maneuver under the radar. Someone with undeveloped morale who can keep an eye on a certain... Darkwing Duck."

"Hold the phone; you want me to spy on Darkwing?" 

"Don't make a habit of making me repeat myself, but yes. I need someone of your skill and background to spy on that duplicitous, deceitful do-gooder."

Gosalyn took a mental note to get her hands on a dictionary after this. 

"Find out where he sleeps, who he hangs out with, what his greatest fears are, all that good jazz."

If he were promising as much as he offered, she would have enough to ditch the orphanage for good and start her search for her mother. No more curfews, no more mystery meat for dinner, and no more sharing a T.V.! Still, there's something in the back of her head keeping her from accepting the job. 

"But what if I say no?"

Negaduck glanced around the room and found the Darkwing Duck comic on the bed. He picked it up and looked at it for a moment, his face softened as he stared at the cover. He dug his hand into his pocket and fished out a silver lighter. He flicked the top off to reveal a small flame.

"I couldn't help but notice how much hardwood this little orphanage has. When was this place built? Late 30s? 40s? I'd be a real shame if someone made a little  _ accident _ ."

The man lit the comic with his lighter, which instantly caught ablaze. He dropped the comic onto the floor without so much as a second thought. 

"Hey! That's my friend's!"

Negaduck's face remained unfazed as he kept his stare to the flame. 

Gosalyn grabbed her pillow and quickly beat the fire with it. Bright embers flew up in the air with every swat of her pillow. It took her a good minute to subdue the flames, and she stomped on the last of the ashy remains of her friend's precious book. She felt out of breath, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Who is this guy? What does he have against Darkwing? Why did he pick her?

"You see, kid. We have a lot in common, you and I," he said as he circled her. His cape trailed beside him like a python circling its prey. "I too have been abandoned by the people I trusted. No matter how many times I try to get myself back up, I always seem to fall even farther. They'd rather we just disappear off the face of the earth entirely. That's why I need you to keep an eye on that worthless wannabe."

"But... But Darkwing’s a good guy."

"That's just what he wants you to think. Darkwing Duck is a spoiled, egotistical maniac who'll do anything for a drop of good P.R. Helping a pathetic orphan girl is just what he needs to get to the top, and he’ll do anything to get there. He doesn’t care about you."

Gosalyn wondered if all the times they spent together were all just an excuse to make himself look in front of others. For all she knew, he was boasting about how he'd saved a little orphan girl from thugs. If that all he cared about, then why should she care about him?

"Us bad eggs have to stick together, right? So what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

She hesitated for a moment but nodded.

"Good. For a second there, I thought I'd have to send you to the Pearly Gates prematurely if you'd said no,” he insinuated. Negaduck turned his back toward her and crawled out through the window. Before he shut it, he had one final thing to add.

"Oh, and by the way," he continued, "if you get yourself into another fight, jam your thumbs in their eyes. It's dirty, but it'll get the job done."

The force from slamming the window caused it to shatter. And just as quickly as he came, he was gone.

Gosalyn's head ached, and her knuckles throbbed. She wanted to crawl into bed and sleep through the next day. She touched the corner of her eye and felt tears streaming down her cheek. She climbed onto her bed and curled into herself. She hummed her mother’s lullaby to herself while she tried to come up with an explanation for the dark patch on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to let yall know to stay safe out there. These are troubling times and we need every ounce of strength to show compassion and love toward each other. Be nice to essential workers, take care of your health, watch that movie you've been meaning to watch, and above all, keep yourself happy.  
> Love you guys, and please please please be safe and happy a happy pride month.


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